


Flu shot

by NYWCgirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Flu, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Team as Family, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: Peter and Neal are sick, just when Elizabeth has a big venue.





	Flu shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeesaPerrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeesaPerrie/gifts).



> This fic was written as a fandom stocking filler for Leesa_Perrie.

 

‘Get your cold feet away from me.’

‘I’m cold and I don´t feel well. Do you think I have a fever?’ Neal moans.

He can´t suppress the couch that has been building any longer and violently coughs, winching at the pain in his throat and lungs.

‘You sound like a dying seal.’

Neal is still trying to catch his breath so he refrains answering the sneer, he just snuggles deeper under the blankets.

‘Do you think we will get any food?’

‘Of course we will. We’re sick. Who’s idea was it anyway to get in one bed?

‘Your wife´s, because it was easier on her and Mozzie to take care of us if we were in one room.’

‘But what if they are fed up with us? Maybe they think it is easier to let us wallow in our misery.’

‘Us? Please speak for yourself, you are the one who found it necessary to try and con his wife.’

‘…’

‘What was that? Cat catch your tongue?’

Neal yawns. Why is he still so tired after having spent the last two days in bed?

‘Rest, you look like you’re about to keel over any moment.’

‘From my perspective, you look the same, but yeah, I probably …’ Neal trails of.

When Neal doesn´t finish his sentence, Peter turns around and smiles. Neal has fallen asleep while talking. He covers Neal with the extra blanket and decides it is a good idea to take a nap. His head is fuzzy and stuffed, so he can better sleep through those inconveniences. Maybe when he wakes up he will have the mental strength to go downstairs to get some food.

 

* *  *

 

Neal wakes to the heavy congested snoring of Peter. He tries to close his eyes again, but the snoring makes it impossible to fall asleep again. He eyes the room to see where his slippers and robe are. He takes a deep breath mentally preparing himself to go to the bathroom. He gets in a sitting position on the edge of the bed and has to steady himself when he is hit by a head rush.

When he feels like he isn´t going to drop then and there he looks up seeing two thermos, cups, Tylenol, bottled water, what appears to be a bag with Danish or donuts and two vials.

There is also a note, so Neal stumbles towards the table. The note is from Mozzie and he squints to deceiver Mozzie´s handwriting with his feverish brain. It turns out that Mozzie was here to check up on them and left them a thermos tea, one with chicken soup, donuts for Peter and two vials with the honey stuff Mozzie swears by.

Neal is beyond reservations, so he takes the vial and chucks it down, followed with a cup of tea. He sits down waiting if his stomach is going to rebel, but when nothing happens, he pours himself a cup of soup. It is still warm and Neal warms his hands around it while eating. It is spicy so he can taste some of it through the congestion. Perfect. He will have to thank Mozzie later.

He looks back at Peter who is still sleeping and snoring away. He debates whether or not to wake Peter, but maybe it is better to let him sleep. He can use the time to take a shower and maybe he will feel a bit better afterwards.

He staggers towards the bathroom and starts the shower. Once there are thick clouds of steam, he strips and stands under the hot water. It feels fantastic, although he has to support himself against the wall, to keep upright. He better, there is nothing worse than making a face plant in the bathroom and to be found wet and naked.

After a while he knows he starts to resemble a wrinkled raisin, so he turns off the water and takes one of the large fluffy bath towels and dries himself before entering his dressing and taking clean underwear and PJ´s.

When he enters the kitchenette, Peter is setting up in the bed, looking like he is contemplating of just laying back down again.

‘Mozzie left you medicine and some soup. You should try it, it is delicious.’

Peter nods tiredly but does push himself into a standing position and wobbles towards the table. Neal pours him a cup of soup and a glass of water and puts the vial in front of Peter.

‘Is this is the same stuff he gave me last time?’

‘I think so, but with Mozzie, who knows?’ Neal smiles.

It is testimony to how Peter feels, because he chucks the vial back like he is taking a shot of tequila. He stills for a moment and Neal is already looking for a trash can, but then Peter picks up the spoon and starts eating the soup.

‘This is good.’ He says with his mouth full.

‘Yeah, it really is.’

Neal takes the package of Tylenol and hands Peter two and takes two himself.

‘However much I enjoy spending time with you in one bed, remember me to get that flu shot next year.’ Neal says before he takes a blanket and curls up on the couch.


End file.
